


Right Red Refuge

by excessiveling



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Consensual Somnophilia, Dom Karkat, Implied Consent, Lifestyle BDSM, Nonbinary Character, Oral Sex, Other, pale sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 13:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5667718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/excessiveling/pseuds/excessiveling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been years since the game. Freed from Caliborn's domination of their will, Gamzee slowly enters an arrangement with their moirail to aide in their emotional recovery. A sexy arrangement. (With sex.)</p>
<p>(Gamkar d/s porn stuff. Taking kink requests in the comments.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Red Refuge

Karkat wakes in a patch of silvery moonlight, his mind still heavy from sleep. He turns down into the pillow with a noise of vague reluctance; the slab is perfectly comfortable, warmed by his body heat and the heat of his moirail's. Far too comfortable to be awake. The night around him is a deep and soothing darkness, broken by that one square of blue light from the window.

He can feel the presence of Gamzee's body sleeping beside his own. When he lifts his head, they're the first thing he sees. The light of the moon catches on them in a fetching way, he thinks; their curls trap little rings of it, it traces along the edge of their horns and down the tendons of their neck, falling in bright lines on their collarbones. In this light, their normally gaunt features take on an almost ethereal quality. A nervous swallow pulses down his throat.

He knows that beneath the blanket, there's nothing but more of their soft gray skin. He wonders how the light may fall on the rest of them, what it would be like to see them naked and serene under moonglare.

He and Gamzee had taken their moirallegiance to a sexual level some perigees ago. It hadn't _exactly_ been intentional; or at least, he hadn't sat around scheming about it. One too many times during post-jam cuddles, his traitorous bulge had squirmed out at the way he ran his hands over their body. Gamzee never made a big deal about it. Rather than forgo any physical contact at all, they'd first agreed just to ignore it. It wasn't like either of them could help what his body would do.

But one night, they'd been kissing, and his bulge was so full and they were so gorgeous and he was _so turned on_... Gamzee had been too close and too warm and too beautiful not to fuck, and for all the pale in his heart he'd still pulled away their clothes and gotten inside of them. Gamzee had been pleading softly with him all the while for him to continue, to take all that he wanted, _whatever he wanted_. He can almost still hear their voice, soft in his ear and interrupted by gentle thrusts.

“Anything you're wanting, I want to give to you, brother.” Inexplicably, they'd looked at him like he was the world, the whole world, encouraged him gently with their claws and hips. “Any motherfucking thing.”

Of course Gamzee wouldn't care what made a proper moirallegiance, that was given. He'd worried this was some adulteration of their quadrant, but it had felt altogether too fucking good to resist. Gamzee was so willing to be dominated, almost to the point of desperation, and he was powerless to suppress his own freshly liberated urges. The following weeks had been a delirious, thoughtless haze of sensuality and sexuality, but always pale, always reassuring. He told himself they were adults now, and surely adults get to decide the boundaries and functions of their own quadrants. There wasn't a drop of any other color in his heart, that was sure. Pale was all he wanted. Pale was all _Gamzee_ wanted.

But that hadn't made it any easier to stop. He hadn't wanted to stop. _Gamzee_ certainly hadn't wanted him to stop. So he didn't.

Things had only gone farther from there.

There's a thrilling drop in his stomach when he reaches to ease the sheets away. He exposes his moirail down to their sharp hipbones, so he can watch the mesmerizing rise and fall of their chest and how the light falls over their small rumblespheres. He outdoes them in size now, in mass if not in height, but a few sweeps of actual nutrition had filled their hollowed body into something pleasantly lithe.

He pulls a lip gently between his teeth, tracing it with his tongue. He doesn't have to only watch.

The idea absolutely captivates him, maybe more than it should, and the way they'd described this fantasy is still fresh in his memory. For the moment, it's exciting enough just to lay there and consider the vulnerable expanse of their skin, tracing it with his eyes and thinking of all of the things he could do. A moirail, sound asleep with their lover in the middle of the night. There's nothing so piteous in all the fucking universe.

They shift slightly at the cold, but stay sleeping. He settles up onto an arm to watch them, reaching to trace up their stomach with the backs of his fingers. The way they are now, anyone could do anything to them, if he wasn't here to protect them.

He has to be gentle, but their chest is supple and each rumblesphere gives nicely under his hands. His breaths come out a little heavier, his eyes focused completely on the subtle dips and curves of their stomach, the way the muscles in their abdomen shift in unconscious movements. He keeps caressing and palming their breasts, but soon that isn't enough, and he lowers to close his mouth down against their skin.

It's heavenly. Gamzee hardly reacts, remaining peacefully still as his tongue works slow circles around their breast. He lets his tongue roll over the malleable flesh while his hands ghost down their sides and smooth into the softness of their ass and thighs. He feels them taking a deep, slow breath as it lifts their chest up into his mouth, and he moans as quietly as he can.

He shouldn't like this as much as he does. But his beatpump is a steady hammer in his chest, going faster the longer he mouths sweetly at their rumblesphere. He moves to the other, thinking that under his tongue he can feel their heartbeat beneath their ribs.

They're unconscious, but aroused. When he finally lifts away, he sits back to get a view of them, parting their thighs with shaking fingers. His bulge gives an anticipatory wriggle within its sheath, his nook an impatient throb, and he swallows down the threat of an appreciative noise. It's almost too much to see them like that, their dark skin painted silver by the window.

Their nook is slick and shiny from his efforts. He eases their thighs apart and steadies their hips with his warm hands, feeling his heart beating in his throat when he lowers to their thorax.

He grazes his lips over them in reverent kisses, pecking down their stomach and over their navel until the dizzying immediacy of what he's about to do almost incapacitates him. He's so drunk with disbelief and erotic anticipation that by the time he's panting over their warm, vulnerable nook, he isn't sure what's more true; that he's too intimidated to go on, or that he can't resist.

His mouth chooses for him and opens along them, and he does moan once his tongue hits their slit. He rests it carefully against their flesh, dragging gentle, shallow licks across the surface of their nook, with excruciating pauses between. His bulge writhes free immediately, spilling into his boxers and rubbing into every surface and crevice it can reach. He's trying to be patient, no matter how loudly his pulse beats in his ears, because he wants them to stay sleeping. They were wonderfully specific that he could eat them out and fuck them as long as he wanted without bothering to wake them, if they would stay asleep. He decides he wants them like this as long as possible, even through orgasm.

Their nook is beautifully warm and soft, getting softer as he circles the flat of his tongue slow and gentle against their outer folds. He can't help giving a hungry, approving growl at how they taste, how it feels to lick them. Occasionally his tongue will graze that pleasurable nub below where their bulge would extrude if they had any material left, but he's careful not to overstimulate them out of their sleep. This is too good, it has to go on for as long as he can make it. They melt on him, and the more he licks the wetter and softer they get, and the more his bulge twists impatiently down in his clothes.

They part around him so easily now that he can't resist letting his tongue reach inside. The center of their nook is slick and velvety and closes around his tongue in a gentle cling that becomes subtle, light pulses. It feels amazing, and with each deeper lick through them it seems to try and hold him there with a brief twitch against him. But he lets his tongue drag all the way up to their most sensitive spot, the little place that makes the entire thing flutter when he strokes across it. _That_ , he has to get them to do again.

He keeps dragging broad, lazy strokes against their clit, recognizing the sleepy feeling in his head as contented pacification. It's so good, he's not surprised; he's blind to all else; he could do this forever. Gamzee is still asleep, even as their nook starts to twitch against his tongue in a slow rhythm. He closes his lips down over their nook, settles deep into them, moving his tongue in slow circles against their shuddering walls. Somewhere above him, they give a faint noise, but they're not awake. Not yet. He can feel it in the even pace of their breathing, the consistency of their pulse. He can feel everything from how they rest against his mouth.

They're so wet that now and then he has to swallow it, which he doesn't mind at all- everything about this is almost too erotic, and soon he loses all pretense of hesitance or shame, stroking his tongue through them just to taste and feel it. They're almost molten under his efforts, so soft and warm in his mouth that it's hardly any resistance at all, and soon the twitching of their nook is constant on his tongue and lips. It's the best thing he's ever felt, and he moves through every bit of them to feel it as much as he can, touching them in every place, in every way, reciprocating the way they flutter with soft kisses.

He grazes his fingers over their breasts, mouthing relentlessly against their nook, and sighs in satisfaction once the constant contractions of their flushed nook betray encroaching orgasm. He moves away to circle his tongue firmly but slowly around their clit, bracing their thighs apart with his palms just in case it wakes them up. It doesn't. Dedicated, focused attention to their clit proves enough to induce orgasm, and once he feels it in them he immediately lowers down to sink his tongue into them again as deep as he can, greedy to feel every last twitch and flutter and unconscious shift of their hips. His tongue laps at them, while their nook tries to hold onto every bit of contact he slips into them as it spasms through their orgasm. He keeps his tongue and lips close to that incredible warmth, licking and kissing to feel even the slightest movements of their pleasure.

They're still asleep. His bulge is uncomfortably swollen and making a slick, reddened mess of the inside of his jeans, but he's entirely unwilling to stop just for that. Not when there's still a nook warm and soft for his mouth, when Gamzee is still sleeping and vulnerable. He goes back to licking, returning to slow, deep, repetitive strokes of his tongue into their nook. He can get them going again. He's sure of it.

It's not long, but if it had been forever, he's sure he'd hardly have noticed. Soon he can feel the last echoes of their orgasm blend into the give and warmth of renewed arousal, and with each stroke of his tongue he draws them closer and closer. He pulls back to lick at the surface of them, then deeper, exploring the diverse shapes of their helpless nook. He's desperate, needing to get them just to the point of arousal without waking them so he can feel them, warm, soft, twitching like a beating heart under his tongue.

His bulge gives an unbearable twist down against his jeans and he knows it's too much to ignore; he shoves away his clothes to let the red tendril free, and finally pulls his mouth from where they quiver for him. He only takes a moment to appreciate how they look, when he comes up to rest their hips close together. He's hopelessly enthralled with them, everything about them, everything about conquering them like this. How could someone like them want a gross, perverted mutant like him? Do they just not _know_ how gorgeous they are? Or how fucking awful he is?

There's no time to worry about it now. The way he slides his bulge into them is almost frantic, afraid he might come before he even gets a chance to feel their nook around him. Their body takes him so easily, his bulge prying its way in and writhing deep into the places he'd made so slick and soft and ready. They're already near the peak of arousal, and they tighten and twitch down around him in rhythmic, hungry pulses. He thrusts, carefully at first, watching their closed eyes and the way their unconscious body moves with the rocking of his hips. This is really happening. He's having sex with them in their sleep. He feels dizzy, but more than that, he feels _right_.

They're about to come when they finally wake. At first he's frightened by their wide eyes and narrow pupils, but then there's a soft moan and a lifting of their hips as they become aware. It's gorgeous; they tilt up their jaw and close their eyes, pressing against him while their nook shudders beautifully along the thick, aggressive thrashing of his bulge. It's rubbing forcefully into every part he can reach, and he can only imagine what it must be like to wake up with something so full and active squirming inside of you, to know you've been feeling it long before you knew you were. When they look at him, there's unmistakable sexuality and approval, and with a moan of pleasure and disbelief he fucks them more intently. He has to feel them come again, the things their nook does are altogether too damn good not to want to feel around his bulge.

He takes each of their wrists, pinning them to the bed while he fills them up over and over, watches that disoriented haze of pleasure come over their eyes as they submit to it. He gives them their second orgasm, watching as their body relaxes in satisfaction. He can barely hold on through it, the rapid tightening of their nook matched by the frantic twist and strokes of his bulge in their body, the agile tip tracing rapid shapes along the deepest parts of them.

It's good to watch them lay there and take it, but it's not enough, not close enough. So he leans down to cover them almost oppressively, groping at their breasts and kissing them, making them taste themselves. Gamzee gives a beautiful, unbearably good squirm that twists everything good about their nook down right onto his over-stimulated bulge, but the noise they make is even better, and the way they kiss back is loving and compliant. He thrusts up into them slow and firm, almost disciplinary, fully intending to fill them up with his aberrant red while their nook is ready to drink it down and hold it inside.

Orgasm starts to build in a bright sensation through his hips, through his spine, through _everything_ , and crests in a bubbling, purling growl as he pumps material into their waiting nook. It pulses and clings, working every last drop from his body in a way that leaves him panting for breath. Each surge of material seems like it might be the last, but then another flutter of their sex around his own draws another, and another, until even the depths of his retention bladders are sore. They work him dry of his orgasm, and finally his bulge withdraws from them in a languid slither, leaving them dripping with red.

He can still hardly believe it. They look up at him with a lazy grin of almost animal contentment, tired and satisfied. He slowly lowers himself to lay at their side, where they turn to watch him with a look that betrays complete pale adoration. The complete stillness of the night is broken by their breathing, but the light still traces them in pretty ways. He doesn't know what to say, not after _that_.

It finally comes to him. “Are you okay? That wasn't- it was good?”

Gamzee pauses, then smiles. Karkat feels his heart nearly stop at the hesitation, but it thumps along proudly at his moirail's next words. “Good ain't close enough to it, motherfucker. There ain't words close enough.”

Hearing that is almost more of a thrill than touching them had been, and he allows Gamzee to lean in for another kiss. Their mouth is as warm and sweet as their nook, and just as welcoming. Soon he has arms full of clown, showing all their appreciation in dutiful kissing, purring, straddling, promising anything he could ever want to have, that anything he could ever want to take from them was his.

“I know,” he whispers back, loving and gentle. His palms run over them until they relax, and he lays them back down at his side, kissing into their neck and hushing to soothe them. “You were good, Gamzee. You can go back to sleep, I don't need anything.”

Gamzee nods contentedly, reciprocating with a gentle pap and a low, soporific rumble. His heart about breaks out of pale, when he watches them relax back down into the slab. They're so happy to be owned by him it's almost absurd, but what can he do but be grateful? The sound of their purring and the occasional weary stroke of their claws dull the last of his adrenaline, and he watches them in awe as they fall back to sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Rules for requests;
> 
> 1) They should all be plausible within the major prompt of gamkar exploring a d/s relationship. That might have been obvious, but just in case.
> 
> 2) No non-con, abuse, or 'Gamzee turns evil again.' Sorry. This is happy times!
> 
> 3) Karkat doms. There's plenty of dom gamzee out there, and this is a different thing.


End file.
